


Magnetic

by ritalara



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Hydra Grant Ward, Season/Series 01, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 03:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15209465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritalara/pseuds/ritalara
Summary: FitzSimmons have been found by Ward and taken on to the Bus with Garrett. What happens when they are handcuffed together in the interrogation room and left for dead?





	Magnetic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AGL03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/gifts), [LibbyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/gifts).



> What would have happened if FitzSimmons had been handcuffed together in an interrogation room instead of dropped in to the ocean in 1X21?
> 
> Thanks to the AoS fandom on Tumblr for stoking my fic fires. External motivation is my drug.
> 
> The plot's mostly here to catalyze the smut - don't squint at it it too hard.

Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz were out of options.

They had tried to run - knowing it was futile - and were currently left for dead in the middle of the sky.

Ward had caught them and marched them on to The Bus - their bus - but familiar surroundings couldn't save them - especially when the man staring them down knew it as well as they did.

Terrible odds didn’t keep Fitz from trying though and his ill-advised but well-executed EMP attack against Garrett short circuited him long enough to give them some space to try and run. They’d managed to get the slip on some nameless Hydra sycophants and they had attempted to race to one of the med pods but Ward and his team had grabbed them. Simmons thought they were for sure dead, but they had been roughly thrown into holding in the interrogation room.

“Handcuff them together,” Ward had said, calculating, to one of his toddys.

The handcuffs were really more so aggressively magnetized bracelets, which snapped in to place against each other as each of them had a bracelet slapped to their wrist, as they were tossed into the cell and manhandled unnecessarily into place.

A cot, table, and the chairs were the only items in the room, and Jemma began immediately doing mental calculations. As the door slammed shut, she spoke aloud.

“We have to wait until we land and then try to get out.”

“How?” Fitz asked, looking around.

“We’ll have to find a way to unlock the door.”

“Simmons - this room’s airtight, highly compressed - made up of state of the art composite material.”

He eyed the drop seat in the room with them and Jemma shivered.

“We’re locked in, and that’s if they don’t kill us...or open up the air shaft. I don't know if the cuffs are strong enough to stay linked if they open the ceiling, but we’ll be blown out of here either way.”

Fitz’s stomach dropped at the thought - an image of her body lost to the clouds sharp in his mind.

“We have to find a way to open the door.”

Jemma stood up and moved towards the door, Fitz being yanked behind her - his right hand connected to her left.

“Hey - ow, Simmons -”

“If we can figure out how it's been pressurized we can -”

“Then what - its built to withstand the opening of the hatch - we can’t very well just bang on it with the chair until it comes unlocked.”

“It's lucky I nabbed this then.”

Jemma reached behind her, under her jacket and pulled out a tablet.

“Jemma...”

Fitz’s voice was awestruck.

She must have grabbed it in the lab when he had jerked out the chair in an attempt to distract the guards.

“We should be able to access the -”

They were interrupted by the door opening and Ward loomed in front of them again.

They must have been monitoring them.

A guard ripped the tablet from Jemma’s hand and the other knocked them both backward on the the ground.

Fitz groaned as he landed on his left arm and Jemma thought she heard a snap.

“Fitz!” she shouted, then turned to Ward, viciously, “You won’t get away with this.”

Ward did not reply and Fitz took in a sharp breath as he turned around,

“Ward, please, you don’t have to do this. You don’t owe him anything.”

“Give it up Fitz, he’s a murderer, he doesn’t care,” Simmons glared.

“That's not true,” he directed at Ward, “I know you care about us. You saved us. We’re friends.”

His voice broke at the combined pain of his injury and his hurt and Ward glowered down at them on the ground.

“Join the others,” he said to the guards, “we need to have everything in the Quinjet in 5.”

The two other men left and the door shut behind them. Ward leaned down, balancing on his heels.

“Garrett's ordered us to leave,” he said in a measured, emotionless voice, “We know Coulson’s probably tracking the bus so we’re taking the Quinjet from here.”

“Get it over with then, kill us already,” Jemma spat.

“That’s what I am here for,” he said, his hand on his pistol “ - to leave a message for Coulson. The bus is on auto-pilot - shouldn’t take him long to track it - whether it's still in the air when he does is his problem.”

Fitz cringed at the sharp pain as he sat up, and tried feebly to force his body in front of Jemma’s

“You’ll have to go through me.”

Ward laughed, hollow, but with his signature charming smile.

“Alright Fitz, you first.”

Jemma screamed as Ward fired two bullets...

...toward to the cot in the corner.

He stared them both down silently - his face an echo of the man they thought they knew, the man they had once drank beers with, the man who had saved both their lives more than once.

If he’d wanted to say something else, he didn’t, and by the time either Fitz or Simmons could speak, he was gone.

They stared at the door, speechless - and minutes later, the familiar rumble of the Quinjet undocking from the Bus told them Hydra had departed.

“They’re gone,” Fitz stated - his throat dry.

Jemma was silent as she began to stand up and he followed suit.

“Fitz, this...this is a miracle. We’re alive. We can find a way to open the door, we can get up to command and radio Coulson. He and May will find us and she can fly us out of here!”

“Jemma, I’ve done the math - there’s no way to open the door.”

She knew he was right. No amount of banging on the door would help - the tablet would have unlocked it. She was stupid for flashing it about. If she had waited longer she may have been able to have him cover her while she tried it.

“The only way we’re getting out now is if the team finds us...”

“...before the plane runs out of fuel...”

It was easy to surmise that Ward still fancied himself their savior. A guy with no good options, but at least enough humanity that he didn't want to shoot either of them in the head the way he had Agent Hand. What was harder to understand was why he had gone so far to betray them all in the first place. Neither of them mentioned it...it didn’t really matter at this point.

“Coulson and the team will find us,” Jemma said.

Fitz looked around, for lack of something better to do, and said, 

“Ward & Garrett have had the plane for two days - and we don’t know if they’ve had a chance to refuel. They’ve been in the air for roughly 16,000 miles, so if the fuel is full right now we have about 72 hours - if not...less - the math...is not in our favor...”

“Enough with the math - are you saying we are going to die up here?”

“...or down in the ocean...”

Jemma slumped against him, tears falling, and one hand moved around her back, the pain stinging him, while the other sat awkwardly between their bodies with hers. She sniffled against his shoulder.

“Fitz...”

“It's okay Jemma, you’re right, Coulson will find us. I activated the tracker - he’s looking for us.”

Fitz pulled it from his pocket and showed it to her.

“No, you’re right, we could have only a couple hours worth of fuel left, and we have no idea how far away we are,”

She pulled back from him but remained standing close.

“It’s been about thirty minutes since we got on the plane, so we’re...” Fitz did some quick calculations in his head, “...about 150 miles out - but the plane that Ward came in is slower, about 450 miles per hour. If they leave now it would take them...”

“They can’t catch up with us.”

Her lips trembled again and Fitz thought for a fleeting second how much he wished he could kiss her.

For comfort really, but also because they were going to die and he had not yet been able to tell her how he felt. He had not been able to tell her how much she meant to him, about how nearly seeing her die from a Chitauri virus had woken up something inside of him that ached to be with her. To kiss her, to hold her, to tell her he loved her.

“It's fitting I suppose,” Jemma sighed, standing up straight, “that we’re here together...”

“...yeah...” Fitz replied, looking at her affectionately.

“ - and on the Bus,” Jemma continued.

He nodded.

“ - and really, I suppose our bodies will lay to rest in the ocean, which is where all life began really, isn’t it?”

Fitz gulped down his fear. He hadn’t yet started to think about their bodies - about what would happen when the plane eventually went down. Would they die from the fall, the impact, or eventually drown...?

“Are you scared?” he asked quietly, looking down at his shoes.

Jemma smiled sadly.

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yeah - and hungry.”

“Me too.”

Fitz smiled slightly and she squeezed his hand.

“How’s your arm?” she changed topic.

“Okay - it's just a sprain I think,”

“Here, let’s sit down and I’ll take a look.”

She walked them toward the bed and Fitz took a seat toward one end.

“Looks like the pillow got the worst of it,” he noticed, two bullet holes singed in to it.

She took note that the mattress underneath seemed to be unharmed, and stood in front of him.

“There’s not much I can do with your jacket on...and I don’t know if we can get these damn things off,” she said, motioning to their cuffs.

“Suppose it's worth a try...”

Fitz pulled the EMP device from his pocket and pressed it - the bracelets immediately demagnetized, but he took out the lights as well.

“Bloody hell, I should have thought of that.”

The blue tinge of the emergency lighting around the bottom of the walls took over the room and Jemma’s laugh began to bellow through the room.She put both her hands on Fitz’s shoulders as she laughed and he looked at her strangely.

“A real couple of dubious secret agents we are,” she said, “honestly I wonder how we’ve survived this long...”

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or join in, but he was having a hard time concentrating on anything other than her hands on him. She sighed again and stepped forward, pushing him gently back against the wall.

“Do you think you can get your jacket off?”

He nodded, beginning to remove it gingerly.

“And your shirt.”

“What?”

“Your shirt - take that off too - you can leave your undershirt on.”

She removed her own jacket, and massaged at her wrist, rubbing her hands together to warm them.

“Jemma, do you really need to - ”

“Yes, I need to see if it's broken. If there’s a small chance Coulson finds us then we’re going to need to be ready for action. If we need to reset anything, I need to be ready to tell Trip what to do when he arrives.”

His mind sobered at the mention of Trip and he remembered there was nothing to be weird about. He could keep his feelings in check, and for Jemma, this would be like touching her brother.

“Here, let me help,”

She began to unbutton him as he loosened his tie and he kept his shoulder steady as she gently peeled each arm of his plaid shirt off.

Maybe he couldn’t keep his feelings in check.

As he sat there in his trousers and a white t-shirt - Jemma was professional as she examined his arm.

“I don't see any bruising, where does it hurt?”

“The same two places I broke it in second grade.”

“Oh no, you might have re-aggravated that - sprained or fractured at those same points.”

She held his left arm aloft, the one without a bracelet on and looked at his elbow.

“Tell me when you feel pain.”

She moved his elbow very slowly, her hands bending it in and then back out, and on the out turn he winced.

“That smarts a little,”

“Okay, well that’s good, it’s probably just a sprain and we can make you a sling so you can keep it bent and we’ll use the pillow to elevate. Now let’s look at your shoulder.”

She reached up to the collar of his t-shirt and began to pull it to the side, exposing his shoulder.

“Jemma!”

“Fitz, I have to see it, check for bruising.”

He huffed and she continued, pressing her fingers to his shoulder, and down the top of his arm. His skin was warm against her fingers and as she leaned is she could smell his familiar scent more strongly. 

“You shouldn’t have done that earlier,” she said to him, non-sequitur.

“What - OW!”

She had moved to test pressure on his collarbone and he smarted.

“Oh no. I’m sorry. That’s definitely a fracture - maybe a break.”

“Should’ve known - feels like it did when I broke it in grade school.”

“I'm sorry we don’t have any pain relievers in here. You should lie down though so that you can elevate it...or, actually, you should sit up, and, here, we can use this.”

She looked down at his clothing, hunting for something.

“You shouldn’t have done that earlier,” she said again, as she grabbed for his tie.

“What?”

“You tried to get in between me and Ward. You shouldn’t do that - don’t risk your life for me.”

She worked quietly as she fashioned a less than ideal sling for him, and Fitz’s breathing hitched as she leaned in to him, her chest close and brushing against his arm.

“There you go - it will have to do.”

“Jemma...”

“I mean it Fitz,” she said, looking down at the floor, “I don't want you to keep doing that. If we get out of here - you have to think about your own safety too.”

She pulled at the pillow, picking it up to examine it. It had two clean bullet holes through the middle and Jemma shivered as she eyed the casings on the ground behind the bed. She handed it to him.

“What about you,” he sputtered, “you jumped out of a plane - tried to sacrifice yourself.”

“That's different - if that pulse had gone off here on the bus it would have killed all of us...put that under your elbow and forearm, and lean back.”

He wanted to protest but he didn’t have a good reason to argue her on either item - other than the fact that we was pretty sure he couldn’t live in a world without her in it. He pressed himself more comfortably against the wall and slide the pillow under his left arm. Jemma fiddled with his shirt and both their jackets, folding them and placing them on the table.

“Do you think you can rest?” she asked.

“What?”

“Your body’s going to start coming down from the adrenaline and the dark in here is going to make you start producing melatonin - both of us. We might want to try and get some rest.”

“But Jemma, what if -”

“If the plane falls out of the sky I suppose it will wake us up.”

She sat down next to him and her tone shifted,

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Of course not.”

She bunched up against the wall and leaned against his good shoulder, setting her head down on it. He faltered but decided not to overthink it as he set his head on hers. They were going to die, what was it to him if she thought he was being a bit forward. The room quieted as their breathing became regular and after a couple minutes, Jemma broke the silence.

“What do you think it’s like?” she questioned.

Fitz paused and then realized what she was talking about.

“Death?...depends on the method - drowning’s supposed to be quite pleasant...in the end - apparently.

“I mean after.”

“Well my mom always said that you shouldn’t be afraid because it's just like the way life was before you were born.”

She smiled and gripped his good arm, her hand hesitating before it linked with his.

Fitz looked down at their fingers twining and felt a surge...like something was pulling him to her.

“That’s sweet...I like to think about the first law of thermodynamics - no energy in the universe is created, and - 

“ - and none is destroyed.”

He looked down at her.

“None is destroyed,” she smiled, squeezing his hand.

“That means that every bit of energy inside us,” she continued, sitting up, “every particle - will go on to be part of something else. Maybe live as a dragonfish, or a microbe - maybe burn in a supernova 10 billion years from now...”

As her line of thought got more animated, Fitz looked at her with a well of affection.

“ ...and every part of us now was once part of some other thing - a moon, a storm cloud, a mammoth -”

“A monkey,” he added quietly.

“A monkey - she beamed, “Thousands and thousands of other beautiful things that were just as terrified to die as we are, and, it’s fitting we’re here together Fitz, because -”

She took a breath and he spoke over her.

“Jemma - I -”

“ - I need you to know that -” she continued.

“ - couldn’t find the right way to tell you...what?”

“What?”

“Jemma...I - I have to - you are...Jemma, I... I...you are - I love you...and I couldn’t find a way to tell you but I can’t let you...if we’re going to - if we’re going to die I need you to know.”

She stared at him in the low light of the room and then she smacked him on his good shoulder.

“I LOVE YOU!”

“What?”

“I didn’t know what to say either,” she rushed, “I didn’t know that you - how come you didn’t say anything?”

“WHAT?”

He jerked and realized that their bracelets had re-magnetized.

“Oh bloody hell...”

Jemma acknowledged it briefly then continued her admonishment.

“Fitz, how come you didn’t SAY anything? You wait until we’re 90,000 feet in the air, no pilot, no course, running out of fuel?”

“Me? You sure played it close to the chest! How was I supposed to know you felt the same way?”

“Close to the chest? I practically put my HAND ON YOUR CROTCH at the motel! But apparently you were too busy thinking about ways to apologize for Ward to realize that -”

“Really? Really? You want to get in to that right now? Like I’m the only one who didn’t want to believe it! Saved our lives more than once - jumped out of a damn plane to save you. You sure were happy enough about that.”

He tried to flap his arm again and found that the magnet was not nearly as strong as it had been before. He wondered if they might be able to pull them apart.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

She looked down at their hands fleetingly, and he turned to face her.

“Oh don’t pretend you didn’t fancy him. Tending to his cuts and bruises all the time.”

“Fitz I am the team’s medic,” she reached down to try and pull at their wrists with her available hand, “what else am I supposed to have done?” she huffed.

“Please Jemma, I’ve seen you when you treat Skye - there’s a lot less lingering looks...”

He reached over with his bad arm.

“Hey!” 

He pulled it back.

“...don’t even get me started on Mike Peterson...” he mumbled, attempting to wriggle his wrist away from hers.

“Funny that you mention Skye and lingering looks in the same sentence LEOPOLD.”

“HEY! Wait - what?”

“Fitz, I would have to be on another planet not to notice you flirting with Skye.”

“I did no such - “

He spotted the EMP on the table and Jemma’s eyes followed his. She stood up and reached out, his arm stretching behind her.

“ - at least I, didn’t - well, maybe I - well, not, for - not since...not since I realized I how I felt about you...and, really -” 

She brought it back to the bed, sitting as she pressed it.

“ - when did you have time to fall for me in between all of your personal time with Trip!?”

With a pop, their wrists flew apart, and she scooted away quickly.

“Excuse me?”

“Jemma Simmons don’t even try to-”

“Trip was flirting with ME.”

“Oh and you sure hated every second of it.”

“Okay FINE, maybe I enjoyed it - a LITTLE...but not...not like...it's nothing like - it didn’t mean anything!”

She held her cuffed wrist behind her back, understanding they needed to maintain distance, knowing that the magnets would recharge after some time.

“How was I supposed to know that? You certainly weren’t flirting with me to give me something to compare it to.”

Fitz put his wrist under his thigh, sitting on it. It was a bit difficult, however, to convey his frustration without either of his hands to gesture.

“I’ve been flirting with you for months!”

Fitz stared at her like she’d grown two heads.

“Just because you're too daft to notice...”

“What?! When?! When are you supposed to have been flirting with me?”

“Fitz, you’ve known me for years - do you see me touch anyone as often as I touch you?”

His eyes widened. 

Yes, sure, she had made eyes at Mike, at Trip, at Ward...but he would have catalogued it if she had brushed their arm, or tapped their hand, or patted their shoulder the way she did with him.

“But, I thought that was just... us... just a thing we -”

“It is just us.”

Even in the ambient light of the room he could see that her expression had shifted.

“Bloody hell Jemma...how...how long?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I suppose I started to notice a change in my feelings when we joined Coulson’s team, but I -”

“What?!”

She clocked his outburst but ignored it.

“ - but I didn’t, I didn’t put it together really until after...when we...when you went out in the field with Ward, I was so worried, and then you came back, and you had - you were okay and I was so grateful, and I...I started to realize how much you meant to me - beyond friendship.”

“That was months ago Jemma...”

His tone had softened, turning from irritated to incredulous.

“Well what about you then?” she demanded.

He felt the ghost of her lips on his cheek, pictured her face as she fell, and his heart ached.

“After the virus. I thought I’d lost you and then you came to my bunk, and...and I didn't know exactly what it meant at the time, but then, slowly, it dawned on me... you’re my best friend Jemma - but... you’re also more than that.”

She looked at him and time stopped, they forgot that they were left for dead, locked on the Bus, and Jemma asked,

“What do you think we should do about it?”

There were no good options...

....so he kissed her.

Everything about the position was awkward as Fitz tried to keep both his arms back as he stretched on to his knees, leaning over her and nearly diving his mouth in to hers. Jemma was surprised, falling back on her palms as they collided.

The kiss was firm and fast and as Fitz began to pull back, she swept her arms around his neck - her instincts betraying her judgement. He threw caution to the wind as well, bringing both his arms up, groaning with pain as he toppled over her.

Just as his tongue began to ask for invitation in to her mouth, Jemma tried to pull away.

“Your arm!” she muffled, bracing it gently with her free hand.

“It's fine,” he grunted, resting it between their bodies and bringing his banded hand around to her face, kissing her again.

“The magnets -” she said - kissing him back, “we have to -” they kissed again, “we have to move.”

She sat up, cradling his elbow with one hand, and pressing his chest with the other.

“I don't care about the magnets,” he protested, his lips against hers again.

“Fitz! Don't be ridiculous.”

She pressed him back to the position he had been in against the wall, and she stood up.

“We can’t very well get our clothes off if we’re handcuffed together.”

She reached down to pull of her sweater and his jaw dropped.

She began unbuttoning her jeans, and then reached down to pull them off with her shoes, and as she stood up, only her underwear remaining, she said,

“Fitz we might die up here and we just told each other we love each other for the first time - if you don’t want to have sex, tell me now.”

He blinked, barely able to register her words as his eyes zoomed in on her nearly naked body.

“No - I mean, yes...we... I... I do - yes I do.”

He could not take his eyes away as he fumbled at his pants, and began heeling at his shoes to get them off. He realized he too could stand, and he scrambled, struggling to do anything with his one good hand.

“Let me help you,”

She went to him, smiling, in her soft blue bra and striped cotton underwear, and continued.

“Put your hands up over your chest.”

He crossed his arms in front of him as best he could, and kicked off his shoes, as she brought her hands to his partially buttoned pants. Her eyes were full of mirth as she unzipped them and pushed them down his hips, and his erection began to grow as her hands swiped across him. She leaned down as she pushed them to the ground, and set them aside as he stepped out of them. As she was about to stand up, she stopped and looked at the growing bulge in his underwear, and looked up at him.

“Has anyone ever gone down on you?”

He was dead. Their plane may or may not be still be in the air, but she had killed him.

“I - um...no.”

He probably should have been embarrassed but there was too much going on for that particular emotion at the moment. Jemma smiled shyly and placed her hands on the waistband of his underwear.

“Would you like me to?”

His mouth was completely dry as he nodded, unable to even squeak out a verbal answer.

She pulled down his underpants slightly, his erection springing free, and as they passed down his legs he moved just enough for her push them to the side with his other clothes.

Jemma knew that what they were doing was absolutely mad but she didn’t care. Everything she had ever read about the high of near death experiences was true, and if there was any chance that this was the last few hours they were spending together, she was going to make it count.

She braced his hips in her hands as she moved forward and began enthusiastically taking him - sliding his entirety in to her mouth, then swiftly beginning a steady rhythm as she bobbed her head up and down, undulating her tongue against his shaft as her saliva coated him.

“Holy hell,” he groaned.

As instructed, he kept his hands crossed firmly on his chest, and fought the urge to take her head in his hands, or stroke her hair. He was almost embarrassed even, as he looked down at her, red-faced at the sight. He moaned again as her pace quickened and the pressure mounted both from her mouth and inside him.

“Oh god Jemma, I’m gonna cum.”

She increased her suction and brought both her hands up, one around his shaft, and the other cupping his scrotum. She scrolled her thumb firmly up the underside of his septum and flattened her tongue against him, increasing her speed, and in short time, the tiny death took him.

She leaned back, removing her mouth from him and ran her hand up his abating hardness. Carrying it over across his thighs, and up his hip bones. She pressed her hand against his stomach gently and said quietly,

“Sit down.”

He dropped on to the bed, heaving in the afterglow of his quick release, and looked at her in awe as she stood up.

“Jemma, I - you didn’t - why did - ”

“Because I wanted to,” she informed him, matter of fact, “...and I hope you enjoyed it,” she smiled, wiping her mouth across the back of her hand.

His mouth was agape as he nodded.

“I’d like to have intercourse too, whenever you think you might be ready again.”

The words in her mouth and the look in her eyes were enough to catalyze the beginning of his refraction and he gulped, 

“I might need a little help, but yes.”

She smiled again. It was so unlike him to ask for help, and she appreciated the intimacy & vulnerability of it all.

She couldn’t lose him.

Jemma leaned down and kissed him softly, then spoke again as she came up.

“Do you think we can get your shirt off?”

It was against her better judgement - but, really, it wouldn’t kill him to come out of the sling for a few minutes - they just needed to be careful. She stepped forward, in between his legs, and he felt her warmth against him as she leaned over, untying the knot in the tie and letting it loose. His arm fell and he cradled it with his right hand as she leaned over farther, and then, dropped to her knees on the bed, one on each side of his thighs, placing her center right over top of him. She felt his hard-on brush against her and Jemma wondered if this classified as a little help, as she fought the urge to grind against him.

The position put her at just enough of a height advantage that she was able to lean over his back, and as she began pushing at the hem of his shirt with one hand, she pulled at the collar with the other. They were careful as she pulled his shirt off, and Fitz gently pulled his right arm in to the t-shirt, enabling her to pull it over his neck, then slide it down his left arm until he was completely naked.

Without any more conversation, Jemma reached back to take off her bra and Fitz was gobsmacked as it dropped to the ground, revealing her naked breasts.

He had come back to life and died again.

She giggled as she brought her hands around his neck and kissed him, giving instructions as she pulled back.

“We probably need to keep our wrists a few inches away from each other at least, and you should really try not to move your other arm.”

He nodded, still staring down at her boobs as he licked his lips,

“So you should touch me and I am going to keep my other arm behind me for now.”

She kept her right arm around his shoulder for purchase, and brought her left hand around behind her, placing it on his thigh. The contact made him swell and she pressed back at the friction, her eyes shutting in pleasure as they made contact.

“Jemma,” he groaned, biting his bottom lip.

“Touch me Fitz,” she breathed back.

His lips where on hers again as he brought his right hand up to her breast and squeezed, pinching her nipple as he pulled away. She whined in to his mouth and his tongue invaded as she began grinding against him, lapping back in to his mouth. He fondled her as they kissed, sucking at each others tongues ravenously, and Jemma was wet through her underwear against him. He grew harder as she rocked and his hand was firm & hungry against her skin.

“Jemma, I’m ready,” he graveled, as they continued their repetitive motions

She rotated against him one more time, kissing him swiftly before she got up and stripped off her last bit of clothing.

She was panting lightly as the pillow caught her eye and she handed it to Fitz, who miraculously had the forethought to put it behind his back, managing the connection they usually had with ideas of a different nature. She grabbed his upper arm, encouraging it around her as she moved back on to her knees, hovering over him.

“Keep your hand there.”

He cupped her hip and laid his palm flat against the swell of her bum, while she took her arm back up around his shoulders, anchoring her. Her unshackle limb came down in between them and she took him in hand, stroking him as she kissed him, settling herself in to his lap as she descended onto him.

His injured arm rested lightly on her leg and Fitz squeezed her thigh as the sensation overtook him - a small throb aching in to his elbow. It was absolutely tolerable considering the circumstances. 

Fitz drove in to her and she moaned, beginning to propel, and Jemma buoyed on top of him as he found a countermeasure, nudging in to her as she moved up and down.

As they found a good measure, she started to lean back, rocking in her pleasure, and Fitz took heed, leaning his face down to her breasts, keeping his grip on her lower back firm as he placed his lips around her peak, taking it in to his mouth. He was fully focused on his two directives as they continued pace and he brought his other hand slowly up to her hip, applying a little pressure to steady her further as he continued his tongue from one breast to the other.

She braced her other arm behind her, above his knee, giving her leverage, and she felt the tremble start to take her as she increased her momentum. 

“Fitz,” she cried softly, causing him to look up.

He caught the look on her face and was shocked in to focus, moving both his hands around her lower back, pain in his collar bone be damned. He pulled her to him and kissed her hard, as she brought both arms around his neck and she pressed in to him as she rode him, her forehead falling against his. As their position shifted, he moaned, his own orgasm beginning in small bursts, and he breathed across her neck.

“Jemma, I love you.”

Words failed her but she kissed him, squeezing around him, and dug the pads of her fingers in to the backs of his shoulders, as she thrust expediently on top him. He felt amazing and she knew he was close. In the heat of their coupling she desired nothing more than to cum with him, so Jemma pressed on, coaxing herself on top of him repeatedly, writhing her wetness around him.

“Oh god, Jemma, JEMMA...

With a few more frenzied motions, he came, and as he she dropped hard and fast on top of him, she followed. They stilled immediately, falling against each other, unmoving in their embrace.

Jemma shifted just enough for him to slide out of her, and Fitz grunted against her collarbone. He began to move his hands up and down her back in a loving gesture and he yelped at the pain.

“Are you okay?” Jemma blanched.

“Yes - ow - I’ll be fine.”

He had enough endorphins flowing through him to shove the ache from his mind.

“Never been better,” he joked.

She smiled weakly as her haze began to dissipate, and she remembered the state they were in.

The air in the room shifted.

“This can't be the end,” she told him quietly, her eyes brimming with tears, “I can’t lose you.”

“Jemma...”

“We have to do something, find some way to...”

“I don't know how, Jemma,” he whispered, his face against her.

“We’ll figure it out - we have to figure it out.”

She got up abruptly and began putting her clothes on.

“We have too much to live for now - get up. I’m not giving up on us - not now. Not ever.”

She was ablaze as she yanked her sweater on and picked up Fitz’s jeans and underwear.

“Put these on, I’ll help you with your shirt. Then we’re getting out of this bloody room.”

If he was going to go, he’d want it no other way than to be in bed with her, their last words to each other ones of love and affection.

But she was right.

He wouldn't give her up for the world - especially now, and if there was any chance of finding a way out, the two of them had to figure it out.

She helped him slip on his t-shirt, and they got to work - mostly dressed.

Fitz was mumbling out statistics about the room as he pressed at the walls, feeling for a seam, trying to keep his left arms still at his side.

“The control panel is right about here, on the other side,” he stated, standing close to the door.

“If we can find a way through the paneling on this side, we might be able to get in to it and I can wire the door open.”

“Brilliant.”

Jemma had tossed the rest of their items on the table and had the bed turned over, pulling apart the frame, trying to fashion an implement that they might use to pull the wall apart.

“If we can get that in between the wall and the door, we could...” Fitz said, “we’ll just need -”

“Some sort of leverage, yes,” Jemma agreed

“The seatbelt!” they both exclaimed.

A few minutes later they had fashioned a sort of pulley system with the seat belt from the airplane seat, and were using a rod from the bed as a crowbar like implement. Fitz had the rod nudged in a nearly imperceptible groove in the panel, right where it met the doorframe, and his good shoulder was pressed against it, while Jemma had the seat belt tied to it and anchored around the back of the chair, her foot bracing the seat.

“Okay, on the count of three,” Fitz said.

“Go on three though, not 1, 2, 3, go - right?”

“Simmons, - its 1, 2, 3 GO -”

“Well that's not going on three is it?”

“Really - this - right now?

“It's a reasonable question. Go on three or go on go?”

“Go on GO”

She nodded, and he braced himself.

“One, two, th-”

Fitz was interrupted and thrown back as the door gusted open. Jemma stood up and caught him - both of them face to face with Trip.

He never thought in his life he’d be so happy to see him.

“Fitz! Simmons!” Skye slipped from behind Trip and towards the two of them, an arm around each.

Trip gave them all a signature gleaming smile and Fitz grimaced in pain as Jemma held back tears.

“Skye! Trip - oh, Fitz! Fitz is injured, be careful.”

She swiped away a rogue tear as she reached for him and Skye backed off.

“I can’t believe you found us - how did you get here in time?”

“You know those thrusters you’ve been working on?” Skye said to Fitz.

“The thrusters?”

Fitz looked at Jemma, elated, and she kissed him.

“I knew it! I knew we would get out of here!”

It took her a minute to realize what she had done and her cheeks pinked as Skye took in the sight,

“Okay then, I think it's time to...”

Their friend trailed off as she looked around the room, catching the items of clothing on the table, the turned over bed, and, if she wasn’t mistake, the scent of sex in the air. She caught Trip’s eye and FitzSimmons looked away, gathering their things quickly, following the other two out.

“So the thrusters worked then?” Jemma asked, trying to change the subject.

“Oh they definitely thrusted, that’s for sure,” Trip answered.

Skye smirked.

Fitz coughed.

Jemma took his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the near death experience smut!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as @ritalara - fic prompts welcome
> 
> PS No Ward redemption here. He's a bad dude with just enough humanity to give FitzSimmons a chance at survival - mostly for the plot.


End file.
